


At the Candy Store

by EverFascinated, Nenagh24 (EverFascinated)



Series: Fictober 2020 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bonding over peanut butter cups, Engineer Stiles Stilinski, Fictober 2020, Harlequin, I'm not sure where the Lydia/Erica came from, M/M, Meet-Cute, Motorcycle Gang AU, Steter Week 2020, but I'm here for it, or at least I think so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/EverFascinated, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/Nenagh24
Summary: After particularly hard days at work, Stiles will often make the trip out to his favorite candy shop. With their wide variety, he always finds something he likes which makes the drive worth it.The eye candy that stood among the rest of the treats today isn't something he expected, but more of a welcome surprise.
Relationships: Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Erica Reyes, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Fictober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947883
Comments: 113
Kudos: 562





	1. Chapter 1

Walking ever so carefully towards the counter, Stiles wonders if it was possible he overdid it this time. 

A bag of gourmet skittles shifts ominously on the top of the pile and he freezes in an attempt to keep the armload steady. He holds in a sigh of relief when it stabilizes instead of bringing the whole thing down like a jenga tower.

Nah. Besides, this isn’t nearly as bad as last summer’s terrible presentation. He had actually needed to use a basket to hold all of his conciliatory sweets.

Passing a man in a leather jacket, who kindly moved out of the way for him, Stiles set the stack down on the counter, easily catching the stray items that tried to make a break for the floor as he did. He gave the cashier a grin as he placed the wayward items in more secure locations among the more well-behaved snacks.

Traci rolling her eyes at his antics is expected, she’s seen him at his lowest and what kind of candy therapy that needs.

The slow clapping behind him made him jump in surprise though.

It’s the man in the leather jacket. The _very handsome_ man, Stiles realizes belatedly, needing a couple of blinks to take in the whole icy blue eyes, five o’clock shadow, and well loved biking leathers package.

“That was impressive.” The man offers, ending his applause with a gesture towards the stack of candy.

Stiles swallows before composing himself with a shake of his head. 

“This?” He reevaluates the height of the pile before shaking his head once more, more firmly this time. “Dude, this is nothing. This is the result of a two day argument over design flaws. You should have seen the mountain I needed after they basically trashed a solid month of work in one afternoon. That was impressive, wasn’t it, Traci?”

Nodding, Traci pops her electric blue bubblegum at them and jerks a thumb over her shoulder towards the back.

“Still got the pictures of it if you’d like some proof, hun.” Offers the greying woman.

“I think I’ll just take your word for it.” The biker gives a low chuckle before making his selection from the shelves beside the counter and moving to form a queue.

Stiles watches in disbelief even as Traci continues to ring him up. A quirked brow lets him know that his stare hasn’t gone unnoticed, but it takes a long moment before the other man breaks the silence.

“Is there something on my face?” He runs a hand over his short beard, an amused glint in those blue eyes.

“You came all the way out to a gourmet candy shop at the edge of town,” Stiles pauses dramatically here to give a pointed look at the single item in the biker’s hands. “To buy a standard pack of Reese's peanut butter cups?”

The man stares at him for a moment before looking at Stiles’ wide variety that was quickly disappearing into a shopping bag. When his slightly offended look gains a quickly growing ~~distracting~~ smirk, Stiles also glances over just in time to catch how Traci is holding up the two king sized packs of Reese’s she already scanned from the pile.

“Hey!” 

Traci tosses a wink in his direction before continuing to ring him up, nearly finished now.

“Betrayed by my favorite chocolatier, what is the world coming to?” Stiles laments, hamming it up for a moment before turning back to the man who gives him an innocent smile in return. “I wasn’t dissing your taste, man. Just commenting on the amount of effort you went through for something available at nearly every convenience store or gas station.”

A gloved hand rises to point at Stiles for just a moment, the man giving a commiserating smile.

“‘At _nearly_ every’ one of them is right.” Dropping his hand, the biker nods towards the door. “The gas station down the road was out when I stopped to top off the tank. Thankfully, I caught sight of this delightful little store on my way back to the main road.”

The unspoken ‘so here I am’ hangs in the air as he finishes his story by spreading his hands a bit, showcasing his presence in the store.

“Still,” Stiles says, not budging on his opinion even as he hands over his payment to Traci. “How can you stop at just that when you’ve got a whole treasure trove of candy here?”

“I’m a simple man,” the biker leans forward a bit with a grin, “and I know what I like.”

Is it getting hot in here or is it just Stiles?

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Traci smirks at him when he jolts around to see her holding out the bag full of candy. 

Clearing his throat, Stiles accepts it and his receipt.

“Thanks.” He says to her before stepping out of the way to allow the other man to make his purchase. Blue eyes watch him curiously as Stiles roots through the bag. His tongue finds its way between his lips as he searches by touch alone, but he finds it just as Traci gets the biker squared away.

“Aha!” Pulling his hand out of the bag he shows off his find to the biker.

Brows raised, the other man inspects the treat.

“Peanut butter cups?”

“ _Gourmet_ peanut butter cups.” Stiles confirms with additional clarification.

“Good for you?” Comes the uncertain response.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles reaches out to grab the biker’s empty hand, shopping bag swinging from his wrist and coming dangerously close to both of their legs as he does. The hand flinches back, but only slightly and a quick glance at the other man’s face lets Stiles know that he’s allowing this contact with only the smallest amount of suspicion.

Not willing to push it, Stiles presses the gourmet candy into the gloved hand before releasing the other man.

“There, now you can truly experience the joys of Traci’s Treats.”

Blue eyes flicker down and then back up to meet Stiles’ and the younger man fights a flush.

“I’ll be sure to savor it when I get the chance to.” 

Stiles finds himself speechless for a moment, unsure if the man’s still talking about the peanut butter cups or something else. It gives the biker enough time to throw him a smirk and saunter out the door, showcasing the detailed red eyed, howling wolf stitched onto the back of his jacket

“Thank god.” Comes a voice from behind him. Traci looks amused when he turns back to where she’s leaning on the counter. “If you two smoldered at each other any harder, the rest of my candy would have melted and then where would I be.”

He made a face at her which only made the woman cackle.

“Shut up.” His weak comeback is nearly lost under the purring rev of a motorcycle starting up. Stiles fights the urge to race towards the door to try and see what kind it was. He is surprised to find himself cursing the fact that the front to walls were covered in candy and not simple windows.

Down boy.

Besides, he’s seen that jacket around before. No one just wears that name without earning it, so he can probably track the man down through the others if he wants to.

And boy does he want to.

He bites his lip against the urge to just follow him now. That would be insane and stupid. Stiles may be crazy, but he didn’t get a masters in engineering by being stupid.

“See you later, Traci.” 

“Have fun, sweetheart!” She calls as he heads for the door, amusement still evident by the waver in her voice.

The Hale Pack, huh? Well, Stiles always wanted an excuse to get to know the local biker gang, now he thinks he’s got a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober Prompt: that was impressive


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles vents and does some light detective work in his free time.

“I’ve been seeing them _everywhere_. Do you think the universe is trying to tell me something?” Stiles flops back in the wrought iron chair and ignores how undignified he probably looks. The coffeeshop isn’t exactly quiet and a couple of the other patrons look over at his dramatics, but when has he ever cared about what other people thought of him. “And they’re never in a place where I can just ask about him - it’s always on the road or at a gas station. Why can’t I see them at a grocery store or something? Then I’d be able to ask without it being weird.”

The hum he receives in reply is distracted at best and he frowns over at Lydia. She doesn’t even look up from her phone as she sips at her drink. 

Stretching his legs out under the small table to knock at hers a little, he huffs as she gives him a look.

“You could be at least a little sympathetic, you know.”

That’s the point of being a best friend, right? They commiserate with you on things like stupid crushes and how terrible work is before teasing you until you both forget about your problems in favor of giggling over silly inside jokes.

“You’ve been moaning about this for weeks, you don’t deserve any more of it.”

Well, alright, that’s fair.

“But-”

“Did I ask? No.” She cuts him off and rolls her eyes when he pouts dramatically in response. “Go bother someone else with your ridiculous pining over a man you only saw once before.”

“I’m not  _ pining _ .” Stiles defends himself with a look of disgust. “I’m just curious and those idiots at work are dragging their heels instead of giving me feedback so my brain needs something to chew on.”

And thinking of that biker from the candy store is like a little treat for himself. For instance, if he finishes replying to all the emails and then he can google the Hale Pack. That got him nothing but the accident from a few years ago, which he already knew about.

Clearing the peer review backlog at work means that he can stop by Traci’s Treats to casually ask if the other man ever came back. No luck there either.

Lydia raises her brows, matching the ones that Traci gave him earlier that week, both reading ‘it’s cute that you think I believe that’.

“Okay, fine, it’s a little crush, but it’s not  _ pining _ .” Stiles crosses his arms before realizing that it makes him look defensive and instead reaches for his own cup. Sipping at it sullenly, he glares at his empty plate for a moment, wishing that he hadn’t eaten his croissant so fast.

“Oh, well as long as it’s not pining, I guess your obsession is fine.” Her snidely conciliatory tone is probably warranted, but Stiles doesn’t have to admit that right now. “Which is good, because it looks like you’re getting your chance to try and not be weird about asking.”

It takes a split second for him to understand what Lydia’s implying and when he does he nearly spits out his sip of coffee. With the way her eyes are sparkling, she absolutely waited for him to take a drink before saying anything about it. 

Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth with a narrow look, Stiles then turns to scan the coffee shop.

There, in line at the counter, is a figure in a Hale Pack jacket.

His heart sinks as he realizes that it’s a blonde woman and not the man from the store, but when she turns to look at the menu on the wall he blinks in surprise.

He knows her from high school. Not surprising, this place isn’t exactly huge, but Stiles is pretty sure they were in the same grade and possibly shared some classes.

What was her name again?

“Erica.” Lydia supplies without looking up.

“I would have gotten it.” He says without heat because it would have taken him a little bit. They ran in different circles back then and he’d been more interested in Lydia and sports than anything else. 

After trying to see if that admiration could turn into something more in college, he thinks they’re both happier as friends now.

Pushing back from the table, Stiles grabs his stuff and stands.

“Wish me luck.” He throws a casual salute to Lydia as he turns to walk away.

“Good luck.” Her barely suppressed laugh has him looking back at her, but she just smiles at him before pointedly returning to reading something on her phone.

That’s ominous, he decides. Probably not bad, of course, but something is going on here that she’s going to tease him about later, he can feel it in his bones.

Stiles makes it over to Erica just as she’s putting her wallet away and stepping to the side to make room for the next person to order.

“Erica?” He asks, smiling a little as she looks up at him sharply. “Hey. I’m not sure if you remember me, I’m-”

“Stiles!” The blond cuts in, smile looking a little more like a smirk. “Of course I remember! I didn’t realize you’d moved back to this place after college.”

Blinking, he wonders why she knows more about him than he does of her. Probably that thing that Lydia will be teasing him about. He ignores it in favor of getting answers.

“I wasn’t really planning on it, but after dad had his heart attack I thought it would be better to live close by. Thankfully, we’ve got a branch office here in town that I can work at.”

“Oh? What do you do?” She gives him a curious look as she leans closer.

Stiles is beginning to suspect the reason why Lydia was so amused.

“Engineering design stuff,” he brushes it off, swaying back a step. “Boring things. Unlike what you have going on, judging by that jacket.”

Her grin sharpens and she turns to show him the back of her leather jacket, the howling wolf’s eyes glinting golden in the fluorescent lighting.

“Got a thing for biker girls?” Erica teases with a wink.

“More for motorcycles themselves actually, but I wouldn’t mind knowing more about your ‘pack’ if you’re up for it?” No need to let her know that he’s already crushing on a biker _guy_ just in case that shuts down the conversation.

She hums and turns as her name is called. Picking up her drink she gives him a once over before nodding towards the door.

Eyebrows rising, Stiles follows her out.

“Tell you what,” she says over her shoulder. “You tell me what kind of bike I’m riding without cheating and I’ll think about it.”

Oh, a test of skill. Maybe she thinks he’s lying about his interests? 

Erica stops in front of a beautiful black motorcycle and presents it with a wave of the gloved hand that isn’t hanging on to a frap.

“You’ve got two minutes, give it your best shot.”

Jokes on her, he started in engineering because he wanted to be a mechanic, but his dad thought there wasn’t enough money in it.

It takes Stiles less than a minute to rattle off the make, model, and all of the visible modifications made to the vehicle, but he uses the next one to offer some suggestions on what else could be done to optimize it or smooth out the ride with some of the extras she’s already got.

Partway through that he finally looks away from the ride and straightens from his crouch when he sees her open mouthed look. His words slow to a stop. Some people really hate unasked for opinions on their stuff, but Stiles doesn’t always remember that.

Oops.

“I guess I got carried away.” He says in place of an apology.

That has her blinking and shaking her head before her sultry smile works its way back onto her face.

“I don’t mind.” Erica sips her drink, giving him time to mask a sigh of relief before she continues, “What do you want to know?”

Oh good, he didn’t ruin that for himself.

“Those wolves on your jackets, do the eyes mean anything?”

His question earns him a narrow eyed look.

“Sometimes.” She allows slowly. “Why do you ask?”

A hand reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, the nervous habit popping up again before he can squash it.

“I met a guy a few weeks ago whose wolf had red eyes. I’d never seen anyone else with them so I was just wondering what made him different.”

Her dark eyes widened in surprise, those perfect brows raising on her face.

“You met Peter?” 

Storing that name away for future searches, Stiles shrugged. Maybe he could get a last name to go with the first.

“He didn’t give me his name, so maybe?”

“You must have, he’s the only one with a red eyed wolf. Most of the rest of us have gold,” she turns again to show him her own wolf, “but only the remaining Hales have different eyed wolves.”

“The remaining - some of them survived?” He hadn’t heard anything about that. All the articles say that it was a tragedy for the whole family.

“Just a few.” Erica confirms and then raises a single brow incredulously. “What, you thought we were using their name in memory of them?”

“I mean, why not? I’m sure none of the many Hellraiser clubs out there have actually been to hell.” Club names have a lot of different meanings and once someone gets attached it isn’t unthinkable that they’d keep it even after the creators have moved on, or passed on in this case.

Erica’s head tilts in a mild concession as she sips more of her small drink.

“Any particular reason you wanted to know?”

Shrugging with a careless frown, Stiles shakes his head. He’s got more than enough now to find Peter on his own. No need to ask for an introduction. Who knows what that might cost him?

“Nah, just curious. Thanks.”

The way she eyes him lets Stiles know that she doesn’t believe him, but she lets it go to turn and dump her empty cup into the trash.

“No problem.” Erica picks up her helmet and takes a seat on her bike to strap it on. “Thanks for the modding tips. I’ll have to try them out sometime.”

“Anytime.” He shouldn’t be making offers like that, especially when he isn’t interested in her flirting, but he honestly misses working on machines instead of just designs.

“I’ll hold you to it.” The motorcycle comes to life beneath her as she grins. “See you around.”

“See you!” He calls over the rumble, waving while she backs out of the spot and drives off.

His fingers itch for his old tools, so he clenches them into fists. 

He’s got room in the garage, right? Maybe it’s time to do a little shopping before he looks into Peter Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized that doing a series of drabbles as separate works is not for me, so this is going to remain incomplete until I finish writing the rest as additional chapters
> 
> Prompt: did I ask?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica takes Stiles up on his offer and plots a little.

A playful breeze winds its way through the garage and then back out again, pulling the smells of his work out with it.  Giving the part one last twist to keep it in place, Stiles sits back to make sure it still lines up properly. He leans first to one side and then the other before nodding to himself.

Perfect fit. He knew this one would be an easy install.

Shifting from a kneel to a crouch, Stiles pushes to his feet. His hand lifts to wipe itself on his t-shirt before he remembers what a bad idea that would be. The rag hanging out of his back pocket is a much better target, so he pulls it out to clean off his hands.

The cloth is already stained beyond all recognition and he makes a mental note to get or make some more. After so many years out of the game he’d nearly forgotten how many he used to have. His father would always complain about them and how the rags got everywhere in their house only to buy him another stack come the weekend.

Stiles smiles at the memory and makes a second mental note to swing by his dad’s place on the way back to laugh over the memory together.

“All done?” Erica asks, standing from the beat up couch squeezed into one corner of his two car garage.

“Yep.” Stiles confirms, smearing the worst of the substance onto the rag before leaving the rest for when he can wash up at a sink. “What do you think, slick enough for you?”

She ignores his waggling eyebrows to give him an incredulous look.

“Are you kidding me? They look great!” Stepping up to her motorcycle, she runs an almost reverent hand over it. “My baby has never been so beautiful. Does this mean we’re all set?”

“Should be.” Stiles gestures towards the bike impatiently. “Just start her up and see how she runs before you race out of here.”

Grinning, Erica straddles the bike and turns it on.

“My baby and I don’t race, Stiles.” She chides over the rumble. “We  _ fly _ .”

Stiles gives that the look it deserves, but doesn’t refute her because she isn’t wrong. The mousy Erica from their high school years is long gone and she looks more settled in her skin when on that bike then he ever saw in the years before.

“Thanks doc!” She revs the engine and he waves her off.

“You know I only have a masters degree, stop calling me ‘doc’.”

“Would you prefer ‘ _master_ ’ then?” Erica laughs at the disgusted face he makes. “Doc it is! I think it fits because you’re always fixing my baby up and making them feel better.”

“Yeah, yeah. You let me know if they give you any problems and I’ll let you know if I find anything else that will fit.” He points at her and then heads for the sink installed along the wall connecting to the rest of the house. The exchange is now habitual after nearly a month of upgrading and fine tuning her bike.

“Will you ride out to my rescue like Doctor Quin, Mechanic Man?” Picking up her helmet, she makes her final preparations for the road.

Stiles rolls his eyes, shaking off his hands as he walks back over to her.

“Where do you come up with these things? And wouldn’t I be Walker?” Stiles pauses trying to remember if they were the same show, before deciding that it didn't matter.

“Nah, that’s your dad.” She follows the thought with a playful growl, licking her lips before his overdramatic gagging makes her break down laughing once again.

The rumble of another bike approaching is hard to hear standing this close to Erica’s, but it’s hard to miss when the rider slows in front of Stiles’ house.

It’s a man in a familiar jacket, but Stiles is too busy admiring the machinery to really put two and two together.

The motorcycle he rides is all red and black and chrome, both well cared for and well loved. It’s obviously a cruiser, meant for long comfortable rides instead of speed, with its handles placed in easy reach and the footpegs allowing the rider to stretch out if necessary.

God, he wants to get his hands on that bike.

“Quit drooling.” Erica comments before raising a hand in greeting. “Hey! I didn’t think you’d be able to make it!”

Her shout has Stiles wincing, but it does make it out to the other rider if his shrug in return is anything to go by. The new bike is turned off and parked as her fellow packmate dismounts to walk up the driveway.

“I found the time,” replies a familiar muffled voice.

That snags Stiles’ attention away from the machinery. He gives the newcomer a wide eyed look before turning to Erica suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” He hisses at her, knowing that she’s smirking under her visor.

“I’m  _ doing  _ you a favor.” She returns before addressing the other man. “I was just about to head out. I promised Boyd I’d meet him for dinner.”

“Alright.” The reply comes easily enough, but her packmate sounds somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Have fun, then.”

She gives them both a casual salute before putting her bike into gear and easing out onto the road. They both watch her go and Stiles smiles as he notes how well his modifications are taking.

Once the echoes have faded, Stiles turns to his new guest.

“So, Erica’s finally telling the others about me?”

“Not really.” Reaching up, he unclasps the helmet and removes it to reveal a very familiar candy lover. “Just dropping little hints to those of us curious enough to ask.”

“Is that so?” Stiles muses. He knew she’d joked about keeping him as her dirty little secret, but he hadn’t realized she meant it. He receives a hum in confirmation as the other gives him a considering look.

“Peter Hale.” He offers the gloved hand that isn’t holding his helmet. “And you must be Stiles.”

“Got it in one.” Reaching out with a half smile, Stiles gives the proffered hand firm a shake. “What brings you out here?”

His house is located solidly in the suburbia of the city, which also puts him far away from the routes the gang usually used. Erica had complained about it more than once on her previous trips to visit him.

“Curiosity.” The word matched Peter’s expression and Stiles found it hard to look away from those distractingly blue eyes. “I heard you were asking about me.”

Squashing the scowl that tries to force its way to the surface, Stiles nods thoughtfully instead. Erica is a snitch, but probably only when prodded. Stiles can see Lydia’s fingerprints all over this.

“Yeah, I wanted to know if you liked the candy I gave you.” Stiles returned the man’s curious look with interest.

“Of course,” comes the quick response followed by Peter’s verdict on the gourmet candy, “but I think I still prefer Reese’s.” 

Stiles nods in sympathetic understanding.

“Their ratio is nostalgic for sure, but sometimes variety is nice.” He points out before finally forcing himself to look away from Peter’s handsome face only to be caught by that beautiful motorcycle once again. “That’s a nice bike you’ve got there.”

How is he supposed to get over this crush if everything about Peter is so gorgeous? What the hell is he going to do now?

“Thank you. It’s a shame I can’t say the same about yours.” 

“Rude.” The word drops from his mouth automatically as Stiles turns back to his garage where Peter is approaching the partially deconstructed motorcycle. “She’s a little bit of a fixer-upper, but she’s getting there.”

“I can see that.” Peter crouches to get a better look and Stiles swallows before forcing himself to focus on the machinery instead of the fit of Peter's jeans. He managed it just in time to hear Peter's follow-up question. “What happened to her?”

“Neglect mostly.” Reaching out, Stiles runs his fingers over the handlebars and feels where he’s already scrubbed off the rusted bits. “I found her just before the dealer gave up and sent her to the scrapyard.”

“Really?” A surprised look is sent his way before Peter turns back to the bike for a second look. He hums thoughtfully, probably seeing where Stiles was making progress. “You found a real diamond in the rough then.”

“I’m detail oriented.” Stiles admits easily, before continuing a little teasingly. “I’m just glad that my first one gets to be special.”

He mimes wiping a tear from his eye as Peter chuckles beside him.

“You’ve never had one before?” Peter asks, looking up at him again. “You know quite a bit about how to work on one for someone who didn’t own one.”

Stiles waves a hand dismissively.

“I used to work at a shop back in college to help pay my way, but my Dad never let me get one of my own. He was a sheriff and he always went on and on about how dangerous they were.” He glances down at Peter before looking away uncomfortably. “He was among those who responded to the accident all those years ago, you know?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles silently watches as Peter’s head lowers. The Hale accident made national news back when Stiles was finishing up his degree and was one of the most effective arguments his dad made against Stiles buying a motorcycle with his first paycheck from his current company.

“So, yeah,” he continues after that moment of silence. “That’s why I know so much without having ever ridden on one.”

Stiles throws out some finger guns before stumbling back a little with a yelp as Peter stands and he realizes just how close they are.

“Never?” Peter’s frown is as incredulous as his tone. Turning he scans the garage while Stiles presses a hand to his chest to try and slow his heartbeat down to something close to normal. 

Obviously finding what he was looking for, Peter crosses the space in a few purposeful strides before returning with a second helmet in his hands. He passes it to Stiles who blinks down at the gift he got from Lydia a couple days after he sent her the picture of his junkyard bike.

Stiles glances between it and his only partially constructed bike before looking back over to Peter with a quirked brow.

“Uh, thanks dude, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need this if she can’t even start up.”

“Put it on.” Peter insists, fitting his own helmet back over his head. “I can’t help you build a bike from the ground up, but I can let you experience what its like to ride one right now.”

“What?” A startled chuckle falls from Stiles’ lips at the excitement gleaming in those blue eyes.

“Come on.” Carefully retrieving Stiles’ helmet, Peter sets it on his head and clicks it into place. Hands falling to Stiles’ shoulders, Peter gives him a slow smile. “I promise to make your first time _special_.”

A flush rises to his cheeks and Stiles bites his lip to try and stifle his laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you said that.” He lets the other man turn him around, leading him to the road. “What a cheesy line!”

“If it works, it works.” Peter mounts his bike and gets it ready to go with a knowing smile. When Stiles hesitates Peter waves a gloved hand at him, beckoning him closer. “Come on, let me give you the ride of your life.”

Shaking his head, Stiles takes a seat behind him.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool.” He says, trying to locate his set of pegs.

A warm hand reaches back to pull his leg up to the right position to rest his foot against the metal and Stiles' breath catches a little.

_Stupid crush_.

“We met at a candy store.” Peter points out as they wait for the garage door to respond to Stiles’ keychain remote. “I’m not sure how you got ‘cool’ out of that.”

“It’s the leather jacket.” He slides his hand over the garment in question, making sure he has a good grip as they slowly pull away from his house. “Everyone looks cool in a fine leather jacket.”

“Maybe you’ll get one of your own someday.” Peter calls back and then the noise of the wind rushing around them makes it too difficult to respond without shouting.

Hiding his smile behind a leather shoulder, Stiles enjoys the rush of it all.

Maybe he would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit long so please forgive me if future chapters don't make it to this length, but they were having so much fun here I just kept on writing.
> 
> Prompt: are you kidding me?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comes over to reminisce with his dad, but the retired sheriff shares some old memories of his own.

Parking his Jeep in the driveway of his childhood home always sends him back to the first time he did it almost a decade ago. Roscoe isn’t what he used to be, but then again neither is Stiles.

Taking a moment to lean over into the passenger seat and grab his most recent purchase, he makes his way to the front door. His keys still work and surprising his dad is at least half the reason he came to visit, so he let himself in before announcing himself.

“Hey, Dad! Are you in?”

A soft clatter came from the direction of the kitchen so Stiles headed in that direction after shutting the door behind him.

“It may be a Saturday, but your dear old dad is retired.” His dad’s reply started before Stiles even made it to the room, but the older man did look up when he finally entered. “Where else would I be?”

“I hear bingo is all the rage these days for people in your age group.” That probably earns him one of his dad’s signature tired looks, but Stiles is too busy suspiciously scanning the kitchen to see it.

“And then how would you find me when you needed to barge in unexpectedly? I’ll pass.” Leaning forward, the older man tries to change the subject which only makes Stiles look harder, going so far as to open the fridge. “Why are you showing up on a Saturday anyway? Isn’t that your recovery day?”

Nothing. Shutting the fridge door, Stiles squints at his dad before huffing and sitting down.

“Of course, but I needed some supplies.” With that, he drops the shopping bag on the table.

“Stiles, I told you before, no father wants to know what their child is doing behind closed doors.”

Scandalized - because that’s the reaction his father was obviously going for and he could be nice sometimes - Stiles yelps. He scrambles for the bag to show what’s inside, holding it up accusingly.

“Look familiar?” 

The considering look his father gives the small hand towels isn’t appreciated.

“Indeed I do.” His dad nods seriously, which has Stiles watching him warily. “If I had known that you were using them for this instead of your car I would have-”

“Daaad.” Stiles lets his head drop to the table, groaning as the older man finally chuckles and stops teasing him.

“So you’ve gotten back into tinkering, eh? What is it this time?”

Sitting up to prop his head on his chin as though nothing happened, Stiles grins.

“Motorcycles.”

That shit eating grin obviously sets off his dad’s bullshit-o-meter because his eyes narrow.

“ _Whose_ motorcycles?”

“Just a couple of the Hale Pack’s.” Stiles shrugs, sitting back in his chair. “And mine, of course.”

“Stiles.” Dad’s voice has a warning note in it, but Stiles presses on.

He never did know when to stop defending the things he cared about.

“I know, I know, but I’m being really safe about it, okay? I’ve bought the right gear, I’m installing everything myself, and Lyds even bought me the top rated helmet.”

The disapproving hum has him sighing, shoulders slumping a little.

“How about you trust me for once?” He asks a little hurt that his dad still thinks he’s so irresponsible.

“Stiles, you know I trust you.” His dad leans forward and awkwardly puts a hand on the table, palm up like a peace offering. “I’m more worried about the other people out there on the road with you. How are you supposed to stay safe when no one respects the rules?”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Accidents can happen even to the most prepared’, right?” Stiles puts finger quotes around the line his dad used to talk him out of buying a motorcycle last time.

“Exactly.” The concerned frown on his dad’s face pulls down into a thoughtful one. “You said you were helping out Hale Pack Racing?”

Ironic isn’t it, seeing as his warning used their accident as an example. A family with generations of driving experience and none of that could save them on one horrible trip.

“Not exactly. Their racing days are long over, but they’ve got some good people in their old gang. Did you know that Erica Reyes is a self defense instructor now?” That shocked Stiles when he first found out, but now that he knows her better it makes total sense.

“Stiles…” his dad trails off before meeting his eyes directly. “Stiles, about that accident - there’s a chance it wasn’t one.”

The ticking of the clock down the hall is suddenly very loud. He couldn’t have heard that right. Maybe he misunderstood.

“What?” He asks instead.

His dad uses the hand not laying on the table to scrub through his still regulation short haircut. He looks uncertain, yet determined to tell Stiles anyway.

“I was one of the first on the scene, remember? Just after the ambulances but before the rest of those coming from the station.” Looking away, the man looks lost in the memory of it. “There were things I noted in my report, burn marks, scorched pipes, the state of that truck and the trailer it was pulling, little things that never got mentioned again. Before I became sheriff again I just thought it was because I wasn’t assigned to any other part of the case, but after…”

It’s times like this that Stiles realizes just how alike he and his father are. 

After getting reelected, his father went digging and he found something he didn’t like.

“I tried to reopen the investigation, but someone big kept stalling it and eventually it didn’t matter.”

Because his heart attack and subsequent hospital stay had stripped him of the position.

“So why tell me now?” Stiles has a feeling he knows why, but it’s always good to be sure.

“Because whoever did it may still be out there!” A beat passes as his dad visibly attempts to control his worried anger. He breathes deep before continuing, “Somewhere out in the world, there might be a person or group of people who decided to kill over ten people in one family. And they succeeded in nearly wiping it out.”

His dad’s voice is a little choked and Stiles can’t help but reach out and take the offered hand from before.

“I’ll be careful, Dad. I promise.” 

Stiles is already thinking of ways to confirm his dad’s suspicions, his mind coming back to his old theory that someone with money had worked hard to get his opponent elected that year for a reason. He always thought it was just paranoia or bias on his part, thinking that his dad deserved to be sheriff, but hoarding details and making connections is what makes him good at his job and Stiles can’t help it if that lets him see more than most.

Calloused fingers hold his as his father gives him a tired smile. Stiles’ sugary sweet one in return makes his dad tense up.

Those were thoughts for when he got home and can get the contact info for that hacker friend of Lydia’s. Right now he is spending time with his dad.

“Now that we have that out of the way, where is the contraband?”

His dad rolls his eyes at the familiar question and shakes his head.

He must think Stiles is a sucker. This house absolutely smells like grilled beef and Stiles is going to find it before his father eats himself into another heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually have the rest of this written now, so just 2 more chapters to go. Their prompts take us all the way to the end of the month. If you want help guessing what the end is like, it _doesn't_ end like the song that inspired the title.
> 
> Prompt: how about you trust me for once?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the conclusion of an investigation, an opportunity falls into Stiles’ lap. Time to take advantage even as he mitigates the risks.

“I think he’s right.” Lydia’s voice doesn’t waver as she delivers the final verdict.

They’ve been going back and forth for nearly two weeks now, debating the validity of his dad’s gut feeling and between Lydia’s research, her hacker friend Danny’s not quite legal sources, and Stiles’ own careful questioning around town and to the current Hale Pack members a terrifying picture has emerged.

That ‘accident’ just a few short years ago looks like it was anything but.

It isn’t that the media hadn’t suspected something, even at the time of the incident they wrote articles and ran pieces asking pointed questions about the tragedy.

The famous Hale Pack Racing company, producer of many fine motorcycle racers, wiped out on their way to debut their newest star - Laura Hale. There was an uproar from their fans crying foul, sure that one of their previous headliner's many rivals had sabotaged them.

Out of the ten family members that were out on the road that day, only two survived. Stiles knows now that it was because Peter and Derek were the ones driving the truck towing their supplies for the race instead of out on their bikes with the rest of their family’s motorcade. Somehow, each and every one of the motorcycles both preceding and following the truck suffered from mechanical failures at almost the same time.

From the few words Peter spoke about it, the two of them tried to swerve the truck off the road to miss their family members, but didn't quite manage it as they barrel rolled off the road. Those that weren't struck by the larger vehicle were lost to the dangers of the road or complications on the way to the hospital.

Derek’s wolf’s eyes were blue in their memory and he hadn't been able to bring himself to look at another racing bike since they got out of the hospital.

The only reason why Stiles even got that much was because he mentioned that they were trying to look into it to Peter, not wanting to hide that from one of the survivors themselves. Now that the two of them are getting closer, it felt wrong to keep it from him, a man who obviously still loves his family even though most of them are gone.

“Stiles.” Lydia says, bringing Stiles back to their conversation. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do?” He asks in return, tone casual.

“About the suspects.” Maybe _too_ casual or maybe Lydia just knows him too well.

“Not much I can do now, is there?” He shrugs even though she can’t see it. “I’m not in law enforcement and I’m not a vigilante. I’m just an engineer who likes his work a little too much.”

And there is no way he’s going to talk about the petty revenge that he’s planning to enact on the possible suspects they found over the phone.

Kate Argent - the daughter of Talia’s biggest rival before the woman retired to coach her own daughter - may have used a fake name, but the images buried in the police’s databases put her in the Hale’s garage not two days before the incident. So let’s just say that Stiles finds it suspicious that she helped unload most of the parts that were later labelled ‘at fault’ for the accidents, alright?

“I see.” Lydia sounds far too amused to have taken his words at face value. 

He doesn’t point it out. Plausible deniability and all that.

His phone buzzes a notification from where he’s holding it to his ear and he pulls it away to see if those assholes at work are trying to get a hold of him after hours again. Stiles is aware that he’s their best designer, but this is getting ridiculous. There’s a _reason_ he’s not in management and it’s because he has a life. They _need_ to realize this.

“So,” voice a little tinny at this distance, Lydia changes subjects, “how are things with your crush going?”

Stiles makes a face and opens his doorbell application from the notification it threw on his screen.

“You make it sound like I’m half my age.” He accuses then frowns at the video that just popped up on his screen. “Speak of the devil, I’ve got an unwanted visitor touching my stuff. I’ll have to call you back, Lyds.”

“If I don’t hear from you in fifteen I’m calling your dad instead.” Is all she says before hanging up.

That gives him twenty-five minutes before he’s got a patrol car at his place then. Flipping the locks efficiently, Stiles yanks his front door open.

“Hello, I think you forgot something here.” He calls out to the woman almost halfway down his driveway.

The blonde turns with an easy smile.

“I’m sorry? Were you expecting more than one package?” She asks before checking her phone for something and shaking her head. “It must be coming through a different carrier, that’s the only one I’ve got.”

“No, funnily enough this is the only one today.” Stiles gives her a smile that he doesn’t mean, barely glancing at the small package near his feet even as he uses the phone in his hand to start recording. “I mean that this part requires a signature. The website was very clear on that.”

“Oh?” Bringing up her phone again, the woman frowns.

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ just to be annoying. “That’s why I worked from home today, because the delivery time was listed as between nine and ten AM.”

Stiles knows without looking that it’s just after six PM right now. Just like he knows that _this_ woman shouldn’t be delivering packages.

Kate Argent should be getting ready for tomorrow’s race that's scheduled to take place several towns south of here.

Instead she’s here, shrugging at him with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the prompt to have you sign and the app won’t let me add a signature after the fact.” She nearly hides a flinch when Stiles whips up his phone as if searching for his email. The video has more than enough footage of her face before she turns away. “I need to get going, I’ve still got a few more runs to make before the end of my shift.”

“Uh, huh. Have fun with that.” If his doorbell video wasn’t enough, he’s got plenty more to back it up. She speedwalks to the van and speeds off with a cheery wave.

Good.

Dialing Lydia, he reaches over into his workbag which is hanging just behind the door and snaps on some rubber gloves.

“Well?” Is how she greets him.

“Katie came and paid me a visit. And she brought a gift, paid for by yours truly.” He carefully picks up the cardboard box which has obviously been opened and resealed. “I’m taking pictures and checking the contents now.”

“Why would she out herself like this? It seems stupid.” Lydia’s opinion on Kate Argent’s intelligence is clear.

“You know that race they’re holding down south tomorrow?” He waits for her answering hum before continuing. “Peter’s invited me to join the whole pack as they ride down to watch.”

He carefully slices open the newer set of tape to open the box as he listens to her incredulous pause.

“It’s the first they’ll be attending in force since the accident.” Stiles points out helpfully. “And rumor has it that Hale Pack Racing might not be so gone as everyone thought.”

“Isn’t it?” She asks sharply.

“Neither of the Hales will ever race now, but there’s a feisty blond who has been spotted using their practice courses recently.” Erica was keeping it a secret to surprise Lydia, but as it could now be endangering her Stiles doesn't mind sharing the news.

The part inside is wrapped in plastic as expected, but when he takes it out of the box to inspect it through the hastily resealed bubble wrap there’s obvious flaws in the configuration. Well, obvious to _him_ at least.

“And?” Lydia presses impatiently, trying to see what he’s going to do and what else needs to be done to protect Erica. 

“ _And_ Kate's been messing with our parts.” He takes a picture of the still packaged part in his hand before placing it back in the box and setting it aside. Checking to make sure that his door is locked, he goes to hunt down his keys. “You call your girlfriend and let her know to stay put. I’m on my way to Peter’s to check his and Derek’s vehicles before coming over to check hers.”

“Can’t even call him your boyfriend yet, huh?” Comes her parting shot before she’s gone again, probably to call Erica and stop her from doing anything dangerous.

No one has touched Erica’s baby other than him as far as Stiles is aware, but Peter hasn’t let him do more than ride his motorcycle so far, so who knows what dangers might be lurking within.

He jumps into his jeep and opens the garage as his phone rings. He’s already pulling out down his driveway when it connects.

“Where are you? Scratch that, if you’re riding anywhere pull over somewhere safe and let me know here you are.” Stiles says immediately as he waits impatiently for his garage to shut.

“I’m home.” Peter replies, confusion evident in his voice. “Why?”

“Oh thank god. Is Derek there too?” Not waiting for a response, Stiles tears out of his neighborhood. “If so, don’t let him leave. I’m coming over to see if she’s rigged your vehicles. Can you call some of the others? Lydia’s got Erica and I can call Boyd, but you know the others better.”

“Wait. Stiles, back up! What is going on exactly?” There’s movement on Peter’s end of the line and he sounds testy.

“Remember how I said that we were looking into the accident?”

There’s a pause and Stiles can’t help but drum his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Yes.” Peter eventually says slowly, obviously repressing some emotion. “ _Why_?”

“Because our main suspect just delivered a package to my door that’s been messed with to blow once it hits a specific temperature.” Like say the one an engine would reach after being on the highway for more than fifteen minutes.

“And you’re sure of this?” There are faint sounds of Peter telling Derek to call the rest of the pack with only a little snarling involved.

“Of course! I made a note of it when I peer reviewed the part and stress tests proved it. It works great as designed, but move a couple parts around and hammer them together and you’ve basically got a bomb.” Stiles confirms thinking back to all the time he wasted trying to convince the board to let him adjust the mod. “Dumbest shit I’ve ever seen. I told them not to sell it once we found out, but I don’t run the company, I just produce the best mods.”

“What?” Peter sounds dumbfounded. Probably just realizing what that dumbass posing as a delivery driver just tried to do.

“Yeah, she’s a real idiot.” He agrees, taking the next turn fast enough to screech Roscoe’s tires. “Who tries to mess with the mods of a man who _designs_ motorcycles for a living? Guess Katie didn’t even think I’d recognize her.”

A moment passes in silence as Stiles swerves around a granny going ten under the speed limit.

“Anyway, do you think you can help Derek call the rest? She mentioned other deliveries so now I’m worried.” Worry is still gripping his heart painfully. Hopefully no faulty parts have been installed yet.

Stiles swears that the moment he’s checked these bikes over he’s going to get the police involved. Because if they try to bury it now, he’s going to the papers.

“Since this might be a matter of life and death, sure.” Peter allows, following that up with, “But I expect a better explanation later.”

“Of course. I’ll see you in ten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note, what Peter was really stunned about is the fact that Stiles makes the mods. He knew Stiles was in engineering, but it never clicked that the mods he kept talking about were part of his work and not his hobby lol Kate Argent trying to kill them is also shocking but it's more like a cascade of shocks at this point.
> 
> The final chapter is more of an epilogue and when I post on Saturday it I'll finally add the tag/prompt from this year's Steter Week that initially inspired the idea because it will be obvious (if it isn't already)
> 
> Prompt: back up!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is just trying to wake up, which makes him especially easy to surprise

Stiles tries to cover his yawn with the hand holding his coffee and only succeeds in smacking the rim of it into his nose. He recoils but catches himself before he drops either it or it's twin in his other hand. Pausing to make sure both coffees are safe he slouches and sighs.

“Remind me again why we’re here so early?” He asks no one in particular. It’s barely after dawn on a Saturday. This has to be against a law, right?

“Pack meetups before a ride are traditional.” Peter reminds him, stepping up to take his coffee from Stiles’ off hand and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before heading towards where a couple of the others are scratching their heads over an honest to goodness _paper_ map. Like it’s the nineties or something!

“Then why am I here now and not an hour from now?” Whining into his cup, Stiles pouts before taking a sip. He nearly chokes when an arm slings itself over his shoulders and pulls him almost entirely off balance.

“Because we’ve got an announcement to make, bud!” Erica proclaims, far too happy for this early hour.

He might wake up even earlier for work days, but this is his recovery day, damn it! A day for him to try and forget that he even has an office job!

Wait, an announcement?

“What, are you and Lydia getting engaged already?” Stiles asks only half joking.

Even after just three months of dating Stiles wouldn’t be surprised. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Lydia this happy and Erica seems just as enamored with her. Stiles is just waiting for the day where he and Boyd get to be their maids of honor because those two will absolutely make them wear dresses. He’s just as sure that neither he nor Boyd will say no to that request.

Hopefully the dresses will let them both show off their rocking legs.

“Maybe later,” is all Erica says to that, giving him no extra information for the betting pool the pack has going on the subject.

He’s going to win that damn it, even if he has to set up the proposal himself!

A whistle pierces the air and Stiles’ ear drums, making him wince before consoling himself with another sip of his coffee. Erica gives him an extra squeeze before letting him go.

“That’s my cue!” She says, already on her way over to where Isaac is waving her over next to Derek near the front of the room.

“Your cue?” His question goes unanswered even when Peter slides in to take her place, his arm fitting snugly around Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles leans into it as he narrows his eyes suspiciously at the older man. “You know what’s going on here.”

“That I do.” Peter is always one for smug smiles, but this one is particularly so.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Erica calls from a box gaining everyone's attention before Stiles can press further. “We are all gathered here today to witness this historic event!”

“Peter.” Hissing lowly, Stiles pokes Peter right where he knows the man is ticklish. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a surprise.” Peter mutters in reply, avoiding the prodding finger without even removing his arm from Stiles’ shoulders. He’s immovable even in the face of Stiles’ pout. “Trust me?”

“It’s been a long time coming, but everyone in the Hale Pack has known this day would arrive since that fateful night last month.”

“I trust you.” Stiles rolls his eyes at the stupid question. Why would he date someone he didn’t trust? “But I also trust that you’re a bit of an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Duh. That makes me really good at spotting them.” Stiles makes a face at him before taking another sip of his coffee and trying to pay attention to what Erica is monologuing about.

“And on that night he personally came out to check each and every one of our bikes to make sure that _bitch_ wasn’t going to blow us up!”

Oh no, this story sounds familiar. Why are they talking about him?

“On top of that, as if that weren’t already enough, Stiles not only fixed up our babies to get them road safe again _for free_ , he also got that _bitch_ and her _bastard_ of a father locked up for their crimes!”

That wasn’t even all him! That was the guys at the police department finally wising up. He barely had to blackmail anyone! He opens his mouth to protest only to get gently shushed by Peter.

Stiles steps on the man’s boots only to remember that they are steel toed when Peter just smirks back at him. He sticks out his tongue instead before noticing that Derek is handing Erica something.

Something black and leathery.

“So now we’re here to honor him. A man with no bike of his own-”

“Hey!” Stiles can’t help the interjection. Rosie is coming along nicely alright? She’s just taking more time to come together with the court proceedings and frequent dates Peter keeps asking him out on. 

Erica ignores him.

“-but with a heart big enough for all of ours.” She shakes out the jacket, revealing a jester’s hat with writing above and below. Almost cackling as she reads it out. “He’s our Doctor - ‘Harley Quinn, Mechanic Man’!”

“Oh my god.” Stiles covers his eyes with his free hand before using it to point at Erica accusingly. “You know I don’t have a doctorate!”

It’s hard to say if she heard him because everyone else is clapping, stomping, or whistling in appreciation. 

Stiles suddenly finds out that it’s hard to tell over twenty people you genuinely enjoy hanging out with that you don’t appreciate their thanks. He turns to Peter a little helplessly only to find himself being kissed as the cheers grow louder.

He’s not quite sure how long that lasts, but he’s impressed he didn’t let go of his coffee when Erica finally calls out to calm the crowd once more.

“Alright everybody, let’s pack it up!” She gestures sharply towards the exit. “We’ve got a race to get to and only so much time to drive there so let’s move!”

Hopping down from the box, she gets just close enough to chuck the jacket at the two of them before making for her own ride.

“Here,” Peter holds out the jacket. “I’ll trade you so you can put it on.”

“So long as you agree to not drink it.” He says, grabbing it and handing over his coffee so he can fit his arms through the sleeves. “I got you your own for a reason.”

Peter looks offended for a moment before moving as if to take a sip. Stiles snatches it back before he could lose any of his precious coffee to his boyfriend only to be snatched in return, Peter’s now free hand slipping around him and across that embroidered design now covering his bac to pull Stiles in for another kiss.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles wonders if Traci’s going to miss his visits, because with a man this sweet he won’t have to make the trip near as often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're done! I hope you enjoyed my stab at the Harlequin prompt for Steter Week 2020! I'm shamelessly addicted to puns and I absolutely thought of this entire story just to make that one lol
> 
> Also, yes, Leader of the Pack has been stuck in my head for an entire month now as I wrote this, why do you ask?
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you have a Happy Halloween!
> 
> Prompt: I trust you

**Author's Note:**

> Another late Steter Week idea found its way in, but just the first part. I'll see if I can continue it with other prompts, but until it gets to the tie in to the second prompt it's for, I won't tag it with Steter Week 2020.
> 
> No longer marked as complete because the muse is back woo, let's see how long she stays


End file.
